Oh, hey Alex!
by demonwolfkid
Summary: I'm not one of their friends, an acquaintance more like. I've known them for years, watching from the sidelines as they produced their big ideas. Then we entered high school, and somehow I got involved. Not overtly, but quietly. One step at a time.
1. Chapter 1

"Oh hey Alex! I haven't seen you all summer!"

I looked up from my chair-desk combo and smiled at the ginger haired boy in front of me. It was hard not to like Phineas Flynn. Many would say it wasn't possible, but I knew a few people who would disagree, though they did maintain a grudging respect for him, so I suppose that assessment could be considered true.

Behind him came his step-brother. The ever present Ferb Fletcher, who took his seat silently next to his brother. I nodded to him, and he glanced at the whiteboard in silent question.

I shrugged. I knew just about as much about this teacher as anyone did. She was new, a younger woman dressed casually in slacks and a blouse.

Isabella came in soon after, flouncing over to a few of her Fireside friends, but not before greeting the Flynn-Fletchers. She grinned at me, but she grinned at everyone.

And so started my first day of high school.

* * *

 **This isn't going to be a heavy invention centric fic, rather, just an outsiders perspective on the High School years of Phineas and Ferb and friends.**


	2. Chapter 2

My backpack was slung over my back as my feet made the usual trek home. Our high school let out early, at the prompt time of 2:30 the horde of some four thousand teenagers exited. The parking lots, filled with only junior and seniors as the loitered, the individuals ranged from the fast paced students wanting to leave to the theatre kids that only ever went to their vehicles to grab their forgotten scripts. They never left school on time, if not because of rehearsal then because of their inevitable involvement in some other school sanctioned activity.

I nodded to Isabella as she headed the first meeting of some mentoree program that somehow thought it was a good idea to have a meeting on the first day of school. A gaggle of kids I recognized from middle school band headed in the direction of the band hall for marching band practice.

By the time I made it through the school to the furthest exit, and then past the expansive parking lot and back home it was easily 3:00. I could see the start of an invention, or perhaps the end of one?

I had lived in this house for most of my life, and it never ceased to amaze me, the things those boys could do.

So I made a quick detour, pausing only to discard my backpack.

Phineas and Ferb had a usual school year schedule that hadn't broken since we were children, though it had gone through a slew of edits and changes. In those days they invented during recess and then after school every other day. In middle school they limited themselves to every other day. They slowed to three inventions a week, until eight grade hit, when they had to restrict their invention making to the weekends

I suspected that high school would be much the same, but they always made exceptions. The first day of school was always one, as was any holiday. Plus birthdays, and not only of their little five person friend group, but also that of their friends, and sometimes even _their_ friends.

Ferb had once asked my birthday, realizing I'm sure, that they had never celebrated my birthday in the years they'd known me.

I'd smiled, and refused to tell him. He didn't push, because it was Ferb, and Ferb never pushed for anything except maybe Phineas towards Isabella, but that was an inevitability as far as anyone could tell. Except maybe Phineas.

Frankly I was surprised that they still hadn't gotten together, but who was I to judge another person's love life when my own was just as lacking.

So I stuffed my hands in my pockets and let myself into their back yard. Nobody ever had to ask to be let into their back yard, it was open to anyone. The part of me that spend a good percentage of my abundant free time watching crime dramas was inherently against the idea of an open back yard, but I supposed with the amount of friends they had they weren't overtly worried about such things.

Ferb noticed me first. His brother was hanging upside down blowtorching something or other. I didn't think that was good, you know, too much blood going to the brain or something, but I was barely getting a C in biology already, and it was the first day of school.

I really hate pop quizzes.

Baljeet was talking with Buford, whose backpack was thrown in the corner of the backyard, patched and worn from years of use. The college student was sitting on his computer, his irritation with the compatriot clear and obvious, as was his fondness. They were truly best friends, despite their differences.

I wondered idly where Isabella was, before remembering the mentoree program.

Huh, strange. I'd gotten used to her being anywhere Phineas and Ferb were.

"Outa the way!"

Habit had me jumping out of the gateway, the Fireside girls, while leaderless for the moment, were never the less assisting in whatever the heck the boys were building. Katie seemed to be in charge for the moment, busy shouting orders in much the same way that Isabella usually did.

I myself hovered near the edge of the yard. I'd never been completely comfortable in the presence of the group, though I supposed the group was the closest group of friends I had. I wasn't the type to stay after school for things, only moderately involved in anything I did. I suppose the same could be said for my involvement with them. I usually made an appearance, typically in a different part of the invention process than the last time I had stopped by, but after a five minute period of watching I'd make a quick exit.

Maybe I was the problem, my inability to commit.

So after I confirmed that yes, that was indeed a giant pencil, they were going to write in all the blanks of the world! I left, while the others were involved in talking about whether the blankness of space was actually blank, whether or not the phrase was the blackness or space or the blankness, and other such things. I left, because I didn't want to be involved in anything that I didn't fit in with, and I surely didn't fit in with this group of optimists.

I caught Ferb's gaze when I took one last glance at the large framework that without a doubt would end up a yellow pencil, and I smiled at him, because that's what other people did. He didn't say anything, didn't nod or move or anything, so I left. Such was life.

* * *

"Hey Isabella, you haven't been over much."

I watched with mild interest as Phineas chatted with Isabella. Was he…? Was it possible that…?

No, no way, the kid was too oblivious for the simplicity of a crush to have come over him. Not yet. Maybe a vague like, but not a full out crush. Not yet.

Phineas and Ferb were always the first people in the classroom. Or at the very least, they were the first people I ever saw. They sat in the seats in the middle of the classroom, and they were always there before I was at the very least. Isabella could go either way, depending on her activities. She'd already made a name for herself with the Student Council and Community Services Club, as well as the Literary Analysis Organization and a handful of others.

She was so opposite me, so blatantly different. I wasn't goth, wasn't emo, no doom and gloom, but I wasn't preppy or out there. I suppose I was normal, but what is normal?

It had been roughly a month since the start of the school year. The boys had fallen into a weekend schedule for big inventions, the sky reaching ones, though occasionally I heard rumors of 'smaller' projects. I say smaller because what they lack in height or mass they made up for in pure, I don't know, ingenuity? Weirdness?

Probably a little bit of both.

We were reviewing essays. The type of assignment that mostly just meant that you skimmed over an essay, if you were a good student you'd put in actual notes, if you were a bad student you'd read and give them a hundred because effort = A apparently. If you were me you looked for a few of the small number of grammatical errors you could spot, rearranged a sentence or two, and gave them a 98, because hey, you did the assignment, good job, it wasn't horrible, but no one deserves an A when I know for a fact I'm not getting one.

Except as I read over the assignment I'd been given I found that I had nothing to critique. One look at the name told me why.

Ferb Fletcher.

So I gave him a 98 and put in the notes, _Because no one gets 100's all the time._

Because I wasn't going to change that habit just because the brit was 10x smarter and had actually read the book that the book report was over, as evidenced by the actual quotes and intelligent remarks. Meanwhile my quotes, while actual quotes from the book, had mostly been derived from the first, third, seventh, twelfth, and last chapter that I had skimmed though and any intelligent thoughts had been stolen from Sparknotes.

When we handed our papers back to their original owners I sent mine by way of desk travel, rather than bothering to get up. He looked at his paper and then looked at me. He blinked. I shrugged.

I doodled in the corner of my paper before my own book report was placed on my desk. I looked up, just so I could see who was judging my paper this time, only to see the retreating back of Ferb.

Huh. I wonder if he changed my grade thanks to that smart remark. I doubt it. He wasn't the vindictive type of person. If anything, my grade is exactly what it should have been, a predicted average of what he thought our teacher would give me when I turned in my inevitable final copy.

So the 82 wasn't exactly surprising. Slightly above average. That was me.


	3. Chapter 3

Girls and guys didn't usually interact much in gym, but today was an exception.

The childhood bully Buford had turned into a bit of a posh know it all thanks to his friendhship with Baljeet, but he was nevertheless the largest person on the guy's team. It made him both the prime target and the feared aggressor in the upcoming game of dodgeball.

My general strategy in dodgeball was to play a game of, how little could you move to still avoid all the balls?

I was by no means a good thrower, but I was good at telling when people were distracted, so while Buford was reveling in his victory over a series of girls I lobbed a ball towards him, and hit him in the head.

"Mayson! No headshots! You're out!"

Figures.

Buford got in a couple of minutes later. Grudgingly he sat next to me. He hadn't exactly been schoolyard bully type since the start of eighth grade. He'd gotten involved in drama in middle school, though he always claimed he didn't like it as much as he actually did.

Or as much as I suspected he did. Who was I to say he liked it?

"That was a good hit you got in," he admits, though gruffly.

"For all the good it did," I remarked.

"You've got a good arm," and then he grins, because you don't get a compliment from him without a blatantly sexist comment. "For a girl."

"Yeah theatre boy?" I asked in retort, using the little I did know about him to my advantage.

He glared and I grinned back, rolling my eyes in a way that said I meant no offence.

"Think Jinkins is going to kiss as much ass this year?" I ask instead to diffuse the situation. If there was one constant, it was that Buford loved gossip, even if he deemed it a 'trivial girlish hobby'.

Bull.

If not gossip, then he at least loved verbal attacks. So did I, so we bonded that way, making vaguely degrading remarks towards the various people in our class. Maybe this was why I had no real friends. Maybe not. Eh. I didn't care.

By the time class was over we'd played a few more games of dodgeball and had been sent to the bleachers a few more times. Our conversation had also devolved from generalized remarks to possible relationships among the populace, to sex jokes. The last always a hit with the underwhelming maturity of a fourteen year old boy, but I was hardly any better.

Some people say that girls find sexual jokes and innuendos disgusting. That is a blatant lie. Girls as a whole love them. There are a few people who find them awkward all around, but let me tell you that 90% of the time, if a girl finds sex jokes awkward, then it's just the quality of the company she is currently keeping, because girls think too much.

It's usually a matter of embarrassment, but I had no reason to be embarrassed because this was Buford. If I had to choose my closest friend in Phineas and Ferb's friend ground, it would be him, because I wasn't like Isabella, I didn't get insulted when he insulted my sex or disgusted when he farted or belched or cracked a sexual joke. I joined in.

Isabella may be playing the pure, Jewish princess, but I sure as hell wasn't.

We met up outside the cafeteria, the most neutral place to meet up without warranting suspicious rumors from the rest of the student populace. Not that the student populace was interested in me and Buford. Buford had enough rumors going through the rumor mill without my help. All the same I didn't feel like having my name associated with his in _that_ way. I was brozoned, like, hard core, and I was fine with that, because I was probably more emotionally stunted than Phineas.

Well, maybe not stunted, but my interest in relationships was on about the same level. Nonexistant.

So we joked and talked and poked fun at the too serious emos and even Isabella as she storms past us, her 50lb backpack on her back with a gaggle of classmates surrounding her. I didn't dislike her, it was more on principle, because Buford couldn't not say something degrading towards Isabella, and she couldn't not retort. When it's in the comfort of their small group of friends it's fine, they don't take sides, but Isabella's gaggle of preening classmates didn't seem to get the rule of indifference, so during these times I bothered to take a side.

Someone snickered.

Even if it inevitably led to my downfall.

Luckily gym had coed activities about as often as Candace busted her brothers, so I was good to avoid Buford for the next few weeks.

For all the good it did me.

Those at the top of the food chain liked rumors. Really liked rumors, so by the time I arrived to school the next day rumors were abound.

Even Phineas chuckled when he heard, but I knew he was laughing good naturedly, because he wasn't nearly as oblivious to other people romantic inclinations than he was towards his own, so he knew that me and Buford had nothing going on.

Still, it didn't stem my annoyance.

Though I knew that making a big deal about it inevitably led to the rumor lasting longer, so I let it slide, and in two weeks it was all but forgotten.

I was good at that, pretending not to care.

Isabella apologized reverently, and I waved her off because _I didn't care._ I avoided the Flynn-Fletcher's house because I _didn't care._

Josh eventually noticed something was wrong, and he kicked me out of my house the following Thursday to go socialize.

Which is how I found myself meandering back to their backyard, because I was nothing if not predictable.

Though the huge stage, that was a change.

"Oh hey Alex, we were just helping Buford memorize his lines."

Well, that explained that.

Freshman couldn't be in the first play. That was decided at the end of the previous year. However they could audition for the second, and it appeared, if this had anything to do with it, that Buford was going to audition. Or had already auditioned. I didn't keep track of the theatre schedule well enough to know.

They were all horrible actors, I realized as their lines and acting were butchered rather fenominally. Well, Bufords lines were good, and he adlibbed well enough when the line obviously didn't fit the scene. He was really trying. It was kind of cute, in the weird, vaguely disturbing way.

When I tried to leave this time, I got called out. Surprisingly it was Ferb, so it wasn't as much being called out as it was being noticed. He handed me a script and somehow I found myself in a colorful costume on the stage.

Annoyed, and feeling mildly violated because I don't remember _how_ I ended up in the costume, I looked at Buford then at my character.

Oh, I could do that.

I looked at the play sword I held in my hand and shrugged, ramming it in between the jut of his arm and his body.

If I had to have a single part to play, killing the kid was good enough for me.

I cracked a smile at Ferb as they play continued on, sitting back stage, because apparently I was now a part of the whole endeavor. He gave me a thumbs up.

I managed to escape in the rush that was the next scene.

* * *

Bluford did indeed have a position in the next play. I went, on a different night than his friends, but I still went. I sent him a poweraid back stage, because he hated regular water unless it was cold, and the water provided backstage, I knew, wasn't.

I wasn't a theatre kid, I just listened in a few times too often.

I didn't stay after to meet him, though I did tell him he did well in our walk from gym to our next class.

"Heh, didn't know you came," he commented briskly before stomping away.

I blinked. Huh. Well. Someone was PMSing

I still showed up on the ocasionall invention day, as I'd taken to calling them. But after the fiasco in which Ferb had tricked me into participating, I'd been more careful. Not that the silent teenager had ever tried to get me to join in again. We had a sort of understanding, and I got the feeling that it was a onetime deal, a social experiment of sorts. Ferb wasn't vicious or malicious, he was probably only trying to help.

I restrained myself to the inventing portion, and the busy part of the inventing portions, when supplies were coming in and out and I could slip away without being missed. The interactive parts were just a little too interactive for me.

I sighed and traipsed toward my next class. Theatre Tech was a class that everybody took not because they wanted to be involved in theatre, but because they needed a fine arts credit. It wasn't fun by any sense of the word, but it was useful. It was like a shop class, but you got fine arts credit. The teacher had a agreement with the class that if you finished your book work you could work in the shop. So I skimmed through the book, picking out the answers as best I could, before helping to actually build the set.

I wasn't an inventor, but I could do a few calculations to figure out how to build a few flats and platforms.

This was a place you'd never find Phineas and Ferb. It was too restricted, in the literal sense of the word. When you could defy physics and logic, why would you need to participate in something as dreary as a school play?

I doubted Buford knew my involvement in the _fine art_ of theatre. I was strictly making the best out of a core class, after this year I would be done with it. Buford on the other hand was fast becoming a thespian, despite his protests.

Still, it was a little gratifying to look on the stage and know that I helped. That there was some decent percentage of the play that came from me. I liked being in the background, but I also liked being useful. I was actually quite decent at mental math and building. Not the Flynn-Fletcher type of building, just the regular sort.

I ran into Baljeet as I skittered towards a class later on in the day. The curly haired brown kid smiled at me and waved, but I didn't have time to chat and he was probably just picking up his high school transcript for something college related. The kid was a genius. A effing genius, and an annoying one at that, but he meant well, so I flashed him a quick grin that came out more like a grimace as I rushed by. Which also worked.

"Hey, do you know what's wrong with Buford?" I asked, skidding to a halt to talk to the kid.

"What do you mean?" he asks, eyebrows shooting up with wide eyed confusion. "What is wrong?"

"I don't know," I admitted, "He was like, PMSing."

Baljeet opened his mouth and I waved my hands in front of me, staving off his inevitable fact train. "I _know_ that PMSing only happens to chicks. You get what I mean!"

"I do not know," he admits, adopting a thoughtful expression. "He was really happy about his play."

"Well somethings bugging him," I said, cringing as the warning bell rang. "I know your guys and you don't really do the talking thing, but do me a favor and swallow down a wedgie?"

He sighs an over dramaticised sigh and mutters something along the lines of "Don't I always?"


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey Phineas, do you think you could help me with the homecoming stuff?"

Isabella asking for help wasn't unheard of, but the way that Phineas jumped at the chance was a little unprecedented, even for him.

Hmm, maybe there was something there.

The poor boy was still oblivious though, I observed later as I flung streamers down to one of the Fireside girls who ran the roll over to another girl on the opposite side of the cafeteria. The whole of the student council was here, that was to say a handful of upperclassmen and a hoard of freshman. This was one of those events that if you gave half a care about the school you'd participate in some way, and since I sure as heck wasn't going to the dance I figured I might as well set up.

"Al! Fancy seeing you here!" The chipper voice of my longtime friend Hannah registered itself and I smiled, nodding towards her. We'd been some kind of friend from elementary. I'd say best friend, but she seemed to change those every other year. Sisters was a closer way of putting it, family. Not matter how long it had been since I last saw her I could always have a decent conversation with her the next time the inevitably popped up. We didn't run in the same circles, despite us both being honors kids. She was a choir dork, through and through, and spent the mass majority of her already scarce free time with them. "Haven't seen you in a while."

Which wasn't _exactly_ true. I saw her in the hallways on occasion, we always paused long enough to exchange a few comments, but I suppose it was true enough. We hadn't had a chance to have a decent conversation since the last school year, a three months ago. I wondered if she'd ever gotten a boyfriend and what all she'd been up to during the summer. She was friends with virtually everybody, or at least everyone about to 70th percentile.

I bordered on the edge of that 70th percentile, but something had to be said for habit.

"It's been a while," I respond, reaching up to catch a red roll of streamers that had been overshot by one of the ground decorators. "How's Jessie?"

Jessica, or as she preferred to be called Jessie, was our other friend. Firmly in the 85th percentile, but not the most outspoken of people. She liked to fade into the background even more than I did. While I managed to keep up the image of an at least moderately socialized being she preferred to not even bother. Music and her little sister took up most of her time. She was a hilarious person, but most people couldn't see past her outwardly shy and jumpy personality that coated her being when she was in crowds.

"I haven't seen her lately," Hannah responded, reaching out to catch a orange roll of streamers and repeating the motions I was going through as we slowly made our way around the circular cafeteria. "Been busy, ya know? I do know she's enjoying band. Showed off her tanline to me the other day."

The band kids had this ridiculous habit of comparing tanlines, or those that didn't care about even tans did. The tan lines were like a badge of honor or something, proof that you stood for hours on end facing in mostly the same direction as you were ordered to march in step, heel to toe, in line with hundreds of others.

I laughed, because it was the type of ridiculous thing Jessie would like to do, going on one of her rants about band and the extremities of it.

It was so much easier with Hannah and Jessie. I wish that we could hang out more often.

We talked, our subjects ranging from our shared teachers (never same classes. That just didn't happen) to our shared friends (more acquaintances, but I digress) to reminiscing over memories of our childhood.

It made decorating for the god forbidden exercise in patience that was homecoming better, and a hell of a lot faster. The hour was nearing five when we finished, and while I knew that we'd be having to rehang half the decorations the next day because delinquents ran rampant in our school, I was never the less impressed. Hannah, shorter than me by half a head, leaned on my shoulder, her elbow not the most comfortable thing, but I let it happen. She claimed it was her right as a short person to pretend to be tall when given the chanced.

I claimed it wasn't my fault she was a midget, to which she claimed that that was offensive to the midget population.

Once the project was over she and Isabella talked to Phineas and Ferb about the plans for the next days decorations. The actual decorations for the actual dance/party that was being held not here, but at a stadium that didn't exist.

That didn't exist _yet._ The boys never did anything half way, and I knew that this was going to be the best damn homecoming that the school had ever seen. It would not, however, be the best damn homecoming that the school _would_ ever see, because we still had another three homecomings, and I'll be damned if Phineas and Ferb didn't make each one grander than the last.

It was just who they were.

I watched as the two girls talked animatedly, joined by their various posies of friends, and retreated away. I had done my good deed for the day. I had helped. So brushing off the glitter from my hands I went in search of my backpack, wondering what Josh would bring home for dinner or if he'd even be home before dark.

I'd text Hannah later tonight to see if she wanted to watch a movie or something on Sunday. Give her all Saturday to waste with her other friends and party, as much as she partied. She wasn't the type to have like, actual teenage fun, but I wasn't one to talk.

I found my bag in the little alcove behind the stairs where most of the Student Council and other volunteers had ditched their stuff. Mine was towards the front, I was the last one to drop it because I knew I'd be one of the first to come retrieve it, and I didn't much fancy the idea of wading through the angled vicinity to get to my stuff deeper in the cave.

"Hey! Where ya going?" a voice demanded.

"Gotta get home," I said effortlessly, swinging the bag onto my back as I did so. Buford and Baljeet were there, and Baljeet was getting a notebook and pen out of his bag, also towards the front, though I doubted that that was because of a planned escape. "You here with the theatre troupe?"

 _Everybody_ knew that he was here because it was Phineas and Ferb, and if they were there, so was their entourage, but it never hurt to egg him on a bit.

He gave me some strong armed retort and I smirked and said something along of the lines of "Stop being a damn feral you stupid pussie cat," mostly because Baljeet was there, and Baljeet wouldn't be caught dead swearing.

The sexual innuendo did not, however, go over Buford's head, and he glared at me before demanding, "You wanna fight girly?"

"Any day, any time big boy," I responded.

"Right here, right now," he demands, smirking as I gave him an exasperated glare.

"Hey brat," a jovial voice interrupts our banter, ruffling my hair.

Only one person in the world does that, and I redirect my glare to Josh. He and the rest of his senior friends were meandering around. I didn't know what possessed him to still be at school, but he was.

"Hey Josh, Candace, Stacy," I greeted. My older brother was decent friends with Candace and Stacy, he'd been somewhat of a wingman to them in their independent relationships. With Coltrane and Jeremy graduated and went to college he'd gotten closer with the two. I didn't know they were on a 'hang out after school together' level, but I didn't really pay too much attention to his relationships. "What're you guys doing?"

"Racking up the hours," Josh responded, "Filling out those college entrance forms with community service and the like. What about you?"

"Headed home," I responded, "I'm all socialized out."

"What?" Candace responded with surprise. "You're not going to stick around to see the end result. I know my brothers. They're not even close to being done!"

Which was true, but I shrugged. "Got stuff to do, things to see, people to annoy."

"If your brother is here why _do_ you want to go home?" Baljeet asks, and I suddenly want to punch the skinny kid.

"Like I said, I'm all socialized out."

Ditching was never this hard. Ditching was a relatively easy task usually, but usually I didn't get called out by Buford, Baljeet, and my brother.

"Come on Al, stay a while. If only to keep me from bleading my eyes out dry," Josh states, grinning from ear to ear.

"I hate you."

"That's not a no."

I acquitted, because I knew for a fact that Josh wouldn't let me leave. He didn't like my antisocial tendencies, and was a bit of an overbearing goofball. I put up a fight, but there I was, standing with Josh, Stacy and Candace, whose both arms were intertwined with her two friends to make her not run off to tell the principal.

 _Technically_ it wasn't against school rules. Plus, Principal Howard loved Phineas' inventions, so it was mostly a moot point anyways, as shown by the fact that her friends _could_ hold her back.

"Satisfied?" I asked my brother.

He raised his eyebrows at me. "Moderately. Disappointed though. You spent all your time with us and not with your friends."

I scoffed, but didn't reply.

Josh gave me a ride home, kicking me out of the car before heading to work. He worked at Mrs. Garcia-Shapiro's restaurant as a delivery boy, part time cook, patience worker, and whatever else she needed of him. She gave him extra work, he probably worked 60 hours a week on top of high school.

I should probably get a job. Josh was hard core against the idea, he wanted me to be a kid and enjoy life.

It wasn't until 10 that I remembered my promise to myself and shot Hannah a text. She replied, which was funny, she didn't remember Hannah being a night person.

 **Sure! I'll probably sleep in, but lunch? Maybe? What do you want to do? We could go to the park or something :D**

 **I'm inviting Jessie** I replied, knowing that she wouldn't mind. **Lunch sounds good. Park, maybe photoshoot?**

 **Awesome! Let me know what Jess says.**

I shot a quick text to Jessie, but she didn't respond. Well, at least she was a constant.

Josh came home late and delivered take out. Most nights we had something from Nosh Olé, for convenience and the fact that it was free. I don't know how they kept in business with all the handouts they gave our family, but I wasn't one to complain.

It was probably the reason I could never bring myself to be anything more than moderately annoyed with Isabella. Her family was just too nice, too helpful by nature. I wasn't an idiot, I knew our situation. Handouts from the restaurant were always welcome, and at least their menu was expansive so we didn't end up having the same thing every week. Mrs. Vivian would even make casseroles to bring up to the restaurant to give to my brother, under the guise that she was bringing it for the employees.

We lived in a single floor residence, paid off by my dad and Josh's mom's life insurance. We've thought about moving multiple times, but the logistics of it were a little too complicated at the moment and Josh knew I liked the neighborhood well enough. I think he was afraid that if we moved I'd retreat even more into myself. At least here when he kicked me out of the house he could count on me find my way over to the Flynn-Fletchers or the park

Josh is an emancipated minor, though for a long time we were 'adopted' by my aunt on the other side of town. She stops in once a month or so, but she lets us be. She was never up for kids, and Josh and I were always more self-reliant than most kids.

So we stayed. The dwelling was small enough, three bedrooms. We never did do anything with the master. Josh refused to take it. It was something of a junk room these days. We'd given the bed to our neighbors a few years ago.


End file.
